


What's Under the Bag?

by Anonymous



Category: Villainous (Cartoon), Villanos
Genre: M/M, have some paperhat bc im aboslutely in love with this show, sorry for disappearing off the face of the earth for a while
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-16 19:15:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11259237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Dr. Flug's sleep deprivation causes a late-night encounter with the boss to escalate fairly quickly.





	What's Under the Bag?

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written and published anything since April, please forgive me if this is absolute shit.

The worst part about Flug’s job, according to him, would be the ridiculous hours at which he had to work. Any sane person would agree if they knew just what they were, which essentially started whenever Black Hat gave him some asinine new prompt for an invention and ended whenever progress on said item terminated as well. It was torture to the scientist, but it wasn’t like there was anything he could do about it, so he never complained about how hard he was worked. Plus, he had to admit, he didn’t exactly hate it some of the time. Engineering was one of his favorite fields of science, just below aviation, and it wasn’t like he just took up the job here for no reason. However, when it’s four o’clock in the morning, you can’t see a foot out your window, and your brain feels like someone sneezed on cotton and shoved it in your skull, the last thing you’d want to be doing is working on a machine that could potentially backfire kill you.

Flug, of course, did have his own special ways of beating the exhaustion. Sometimes during the day, he’d have 5.0.5. or Demencia keep watch while he took a 20-minute nap under his desk. Other times, if the bear noticed that Flug was up really late, he’d bring in a mug of coffee and a straw for the scientist to drink. Flug appreciated the kindness and wished the other two residents of the mansion were similar in manner, but unfortunately such behaviour would be hard to find in two full blooded villains. Not that anyone would expect any different, of course.

One particular night, Flug was toiling away at a very technologically advanced and very dangerous weapon Black Hat had assigned him to create a week ago. Basically, what his boss wanted it to do was to fire glass bullets filled with a highly acidic compound that would shatter on contact, dispersing the liquid to melt through the supersuit of any hero and thereby making it easier to defeat them. It was a genius idea, Flug had to admit, and he could name a few heroes he could see this being very effective on off the top of his head. Unfortunately, things tend to be much more simple to execute in theory than in practice, and that was certainly true in the case of building this gun. Flug had been working since the early hours of the morning to get a chemical ready that was, number one, safe for storage, and two, wouldn’t explode the moment he finished mixing the reactants. On top of this, he had to make sure the weapon would be able to do it’s fucking job in the first place, and these three factors on top of the scientist’s sleep deprivation were making this task  _ extremely _ difficult on him.

By this point, he’d already come close to burning his bag clean off his face twice.  _ Chemistry is certainly a tricky subject,  _ Flug mulled internally as he used a dropper to add a few milliliters of pink liquid to a tall glass beaker. The liquid inside of said beaker frothed and foamed for a moment, indicating that a chemical change had successfully taken place, and in a few moments it would likely be safe to add something else to the mix. It was getting hard for the scientist to tell which chemical was which, though, as sleep deprivation was causing his vision to periodically blur and make it hard to read the labels on the bottles. He almost couldn’t tell the difference between formaldehyde and formic acid without carefully studying the containers, and that was a problem, but it wasn’t like he could just stop working and go to sleep. Black Hat had a tendency to come in to check on his progress when Flug least expected it, and time be damned, he was not about to take any risks here. 

The scientist didn’t actually know what time it was, but seeing as the broken clock on the wall’s hour hand had been stuck at ‘9’ for quite some time and was beginning to near the ‘10’, he figured it was well past 9:30. That meant he’d been slaving away at mixing chemicals for nearly twenty-four straight hours. He’d downed a few mugs of coffee earlier that day but it was beginning to wear off, and he was consequentially becoming exhausted fast. However, he knew there’d be no sleep until this project was done, so he pushed on and continued to mix chemicals. 

Yawning softly, Flug picked up a vial of somewhat frothy white liquid. Studying the label carefully and writing out a chemical equation in his mind, he deemed this safe to add to the mixture and poured some in. The mixture fizzed slightly and gave off a horrible odor, causing Flug to reel backwards, gagging. He wondered if the mixture was ready by now and looked around the lab for something he could test this on. Occasionally, Black Hat would somehow get his hands on fabric used to create the supersuits of some heroes, and they would go to Flug for weapons testing. Flug never questioned how his boss would get ahold of these samples; one thing you learn quickly working for Black Hat Inc. is that you never question your boss under any circumstances. Rather, he’d accept them gratefully and use them whenever he could. He grabbed the box of this month’s samples and a pair of tweezers for safety from the end of the table. 

“This better work.” He muttered to himself, grabbing a square of fabric with the tool and lowering it into the mixture. He held it in for a few seconds before raising it back out and smiled with satisfaction upon seeing holes already being burned into the fabric. Finally, he’d done it! He would start molding and filling the ammunition for the gun tomorrow, but for now, he was so,  _ so _ tired....

_ No! _ Flug mentally scolded himself. He knew better than this! No rest until the task was done, and that meant  _ done _ . With a discouraged sigh, the scientist willed himself to keep his eyes open. Black Hat hadn’t dropped in for a progress check since around noon, and Flug knew he was dead if he was caught slacking off one more time. He’d already been caught twice this week, and both times were the result of his sleep deprivation.

_ Dear god, _ the man groaned internally, hastily looking around to find the completed gun to show Black Hat when he inevitably arrived.  _ I am going to die young if I keep living like this. _

Flug almost considered debating work time with Black Hat the next time the two met but knew he would never be able to do it. It wasn’t like he didn’t have any guts; he clearly had a damn good amount to have willingly taken a job at Black Hat Inc despite the fact that it didn’t show 95% of the time. It was the fact that his boss was stubborn as hell and wouldn’t make a compromise for shit. Flug had attended enough meetings with clients that tried to make bargains to know that, and he knew he had a better chance of catching an STD without actually having sex than getting a schedule change. Still, a part of him wanted to at least see what his boss’ reaction would be for future reference, and if he somehow died asking, he’d at least die knowing Black Hat would have to go through the process of finding a replacement.

“Flug!”

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. Apparently, this applied to thoughts as well.

“Sir.” Black Hat’s sudden presence caused Dr. Flug to jolt. “How long have you been here?” He didn’t recall hearing a door open.

“That’s not your business.” Black Hat scoffed. “I’m sure you know why I’m here.”

“Yes s-sir. I do.” Flug repressed another yawn.

“Well, get on with it, then. What progress have you made?” Black Hat crossed his arms and waited for an answer.

“Well, sir,” Flug gently picked up the vial of acid on the table. “As you requested, I’ve successfully made a chemical that can burn through the fabric samples you’ve given me within seconds.” He used the tweezers to pick up the fabric he’d dissolved earlier, which had deteriorated even more since it had been exposed to the concoction in the beaker. Black Hat’s eyes widened and a slight smile formed on his face.

“Excellent.” His expression fell. “That better not be all the progress you’ve made. It’s been nearly a week, after all.”

“Oh, no, sir.” Dr. Flug shook his head and picked up the gun. “As you can see, the weapon you wanted is almost done. I just need to create some functional bullets, and this thing will be ready for sale.”

“Excellent. You’re making quite a bit of progress lately.” Black Hat smiled, somewhat tightly. “Is there a reason for that? You’re not going to ask for a pay raise, are you?”

Flug gulped and tried to repress a third yawn. “No. sir! Not at all!” He paused, remembering the idea of debating work hours. All of a sudden, he didn’t feel like that was such a good idea.

“Well,” The half-smile returned to Black Hat’s face. “I’m at least glad you’re putting some effort into your job.”

“Thank you,  _ jefecito _ .” Dr. Flug nodded and felt a smile creep up the sides of his face. Looks like his boss wasn’t going to get mad at him for any reason. He hoped the pet name would help hold off any negative emotions Black Hat would undoubtedly be holding within him, and it seemed to work.

“...get back to work, Flug.” His boss sounded serious, but Flug knew him well enough to hear the oh-so-slight pleased tone in his otherwise stern and flat voice.

“Yes, boss.” Flug felt good about the fact that he hadn’t gotten yelled at tonight and was too tired to process why. Doing so would stress him out, he thought as Black Hat turned to leave the room, and he wasn’t about to have that. Apparently, he wasn’t about to watch where he was going, either, because when he rounded the side of the table to get back to work, his hip hit the corner of the table and it hit  _ hard _ .

“ _ Ow! Shit! _ ” The scientist hissed, exhausted and metaphorically brain-dead by this point. The shock of the impact caused Flug to fall on all fours, hip throbbing. Black Hat had made substantial progress to the door by this point but now stopped dead in his tracks.

“Flug?” He turned to look at the scientist, a flat expression on his face. “Did you  _ really _ just curse in  _ my  _ presence?”

Oh shit. Oh,  _ shit.  _

_ I really messed up this time.  _ Flug shuddered at the drastic change in Black Hat’s tone. Just when he thought things were going good, too. 

“I’m sorry, sir! I really am! I’m just really tired and I’m not exactly thinking straight and--”

He was about to continue when he looked up to see Black Hat staring with an unreadable expression on his face. It seemed like a mix between confusion and awe. The scientist wondered why he was being stared at like that until his groggy brain managed to process something that almost made him sick: his bag had been somehow knocked askew by the fall. He felt a breeze on his chin and a small part of his cheek and felt a piece of him die on the inside. There was a reason he wore this bag, after all, and it had to do with the way his face looked. Carefully, he reached up to the side of his face and pulled the bag back down. 

“I’m sorry, Black Hat, sir. It won’t happen again.” Flug said slowly, praying his boss wouldn’t say anything about the exposed skin he’d more likely than not just seen. Black Hat strode over to where the scientist sat, and the poor man was too scared to so much as blink. “...sir?”

“Flug.” Black Hat’s tone was now smooth and dangerously quiet. 

_Oh, god._ _I must’ve_ really _fucked up this time._ Flug felt himself begin to tremble.

“I’m really sorry! I didn’t mean it, sir! Please, please don’t be mad at me!” Tears began to form in Dr. Flug’s eyes.

“Flug.” Black hat repeated, bending over so he and the scientist were eye-to-eye. “Now I’m curious. Show me what’s under your bag, will you?”

_ No. _ No, no, no. Flug felt his heart stop dead in his chest. “I...I’m sorry, boss, what was that?”

“You heard me, Flug. Bag. Off. Now.”

This couldn’t be happening. Flug’s biggest embarrassment, the number one thing that was guaranteed to make him feel bad about himself, was people seeing what his face looked like. Sure, life was made exponentially more difficult after Flug got the bright idea to wear a paper bag around, but it was much easier on him psychologically than others seeing how absolutely fucked-up he was on the outside. Panic slapped him in the face when he realized that this was Black Hat and he had no choice.

“Come on,” Black Hat continued, surprising Flug with his smooth, almost coaxing tone, “It’s not like you can hide whatever’s under there forever.”

Leave it to Black Hat to make a bad situation worse for Flug’s emotions, regardless of his intentions.

“I’m sorry, sir.” Flug’s voice cracked and he felt his face heat up with shame. “I can’t.”

“You can’t.” Black Hat reiterated. “And why is that?”

“I’m…” The scientist drew in a sharp breath, the bag crinkling. “I’m ashamed…” He screwed his eyes shut, waiting for Black Hat to lash out at him for disobeying.

He instead felt a hand trail up to the side of his bag and cautiously opened one eye to see Black Hat kneeling in front of him, one hand placed on the base of his bag.

“I’m not gonna rip this thing off your head, Flug,” He said slowly, something very out of character for him. “But I do want to see what’s under there. I’m gonna ask you one last time: take the bag off.”

Flug winced. At least he wasn’t being shouted at for refusing. Still, the fact that he had to do this was very distressing to him.

_ Well, _ he figured,  _ the faster I do it, the faster it’ll be over. _ The worst that could happen was Black Hat telling him he was ugly, anyway. Besides, Black Hat actually sounded like...like he was being  _ nice _ for once. It was tempting, actually, to give into this request. Maybe it would keep up if he complied. Flug felt himself begin to lighten up a bit at that thought. This was nice, not being pressured and screamed at the way Black Hat usually addressed him. Something about this is what made Flug internally say ‘You know what?  Fuck it. I’m gonna do it.’

“Okay.” Flug sighed and Black Hat pulled his hand back. The scientist’s hands trembled as he raised them to the edge of the bag. 

_ Here goes nothing. _

Screwing his eyes shut, Flug raised the bag and goggles over his head, first exposing his jawline, then his cheeks and nose, then his eyes, and finally his forehead and bangs. He placed the wrinkled paper on the floor next to him and slowly opened his eyes, and once again Black Hat had an unreadable look on his face.

“Sir?” Flug managed to squeak out. “Are you okay?”

It seemed Black Hat was rendered speechless by the sight of Flug’s face. The scientist quickly filled with dread, automatically assuming the worst and waiting for a cruel comment on how absolutely fucked up he was. Thus, he wasn’t sure how to feel when Black Hat reached out and began to trace over the...the  _ scars _ on his cheeks. There were two of them, one on each side of his face. The one on the right started just above his eye and ended above his jaw. The one on the left was a bit larger; it started at the bottom of his face and went up over his eye so far it actually cut off a part of his eyebrow. Curls of thick red hair framed his pale face, and freckles occasionally dotted the skin that wasn’t scarred. His eyes, however, were the parts that really stood out to Black Hat. They weren’t blue, green, brown, or grey; they seemed to be a shade of yellow, almost amber-colored. It was unnatural, and it was  _ beautiful _ .

“So this is why you hide behind that bag.” Flug nodded, feeling as though he would die of shame any moment now. “How did you get these?” Black Hat asked incredulously.

“This, uh...” Flug chuckled nervously, trying to ease his own nerves, “This is what happens when you aren’t careful when handling chemicals.”

That statement was very true. Flug prayed to whoever or whatever was out there that his boss wouldn’t press further. It hurt to think back to that night a few years ago that caused him to recede behind the bag; so much as a mention of it out loud and the scientist could almost feel the chemicals burning through his skin again, hear himself screaming in agony for the paramedics, death,  _ anything _ , the days he spent in the hospital afterwards and the shame of having to look at himself in the mirror from there. Fortunately, the boss didn’t have anything to say about the details that he let on.

Black Hat was actually silent for a moment. “You said you’ve been tired, right?”

“What? N-no--” Flug’s body betrayed itself and he let out a yawn just as he said that.

“Don’t try to lie to me.” Black Hat traced a finger over the part of the scar that cut off part of Flug’s eyebrow. “This...I’m at a loss for words, Flug.” He quickly removed his hand from the scientist’s face and stood back up. “Go to bed. That’s an order from your superior. Don’t tell a soul about this. In fact, don’t so much as hint at it. If someone finds out what...what just happened, you’re dead, you got that?”

Flug nodded, stunned and confused. Carefully, he retrieved his bag and goggles and stood up as well. “Yes, sir.” It wasn’t like he was going to just waltz out the next morning to 5.0.5. and Demencia to tell them “Hey, by the way, Boss straight up  _ touched my fucking face last night _ .” He had yet to slip down to that level of insanity. Even if the idea were to cross his mind, however, the look of seriousness in his boss’ eyes would be enough to make him reconsider.

“Good. And Flug,” Black Hat turned to leave the room but stopped to look at him. “When we’re in private, take that bag off. You...you look better like that.”

As Black Hat turned around and left the room, he scientist could have sworn he saw him smile.

“Jeez…” He suddenly found himself smiling, too. With somewhat of a chuckle, he tucked the bag and goggles under his arm and traced his fingertips over the left scar. “My boss sure is a weird guy.”

**Author's Note:**

> Lemme know if you liked it. My tumblr is @/mikepents if you wanna hit me up there.


End file.
